


Postcards from the Road to Courage

by Sproings



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Can't See The Forest For The Pining, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Past Character Death, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7420009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sproings/pseuds/Sproings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6323716/chapters/14488054">The Road to Courage (By Way of San Francisco)</a>.  </p>
<p>These were originally posted on tumblr, and are linked in the main fic at the appropriate chapters.  Hopefully you can just read along pretty easily.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Ever since Mrs. Rogers had died, the only thing Steve seemed to trust was that Bucky would be around for him.</i> </p>
<p>  <i>It was a hell of a responsibility, but Bucky was more than happy to shoulder it.  There was only the one little problem.</i> </p>
<p>  <i>He wanted Steve.  Wanted him like he wanted sunshine, like he wanted air to breathe.  Wanted him like it was a heartbeat, something he couldn’t stop, but could only try desperately not to quicken.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's point of view of certain events in chapter 3

Bucky collapsed on the bed and listened to Steve brush his teeth. It had been an incredibly shitty day, and knowing that it was his own fault was no comfort at all.

He really shouldn’t have had so much to drink, but that wasn’t the worst mistake he’d made today.

The thing was, he was all Steve had, really.

Ever since Mrs. Rogers had died, Steve had lived his life as if he expected to be on his own at any second. He obviously loved Mom and Dad, but there was this reserved hesitance about it, like he was braced for the moment the rug would be pulled out from under him. So far, he was only half right about that, but losing Dad ... It confirmed all of Steve’s worst fears. The only thing he ever seemed to trust was that Bucky would be around for him.

It was a hell of a responsibility, but Bucky was more than happy to shoulder it. There was only the one little problem.

He wanted Steve. Wanted him like he wanted sunshine, like he wanted air to breathe. Wanted him like it was a heartbeat, something he couldn’t stop, but could only try desperately not to quicken.

He couldn’t put that kind of pressure on Steve, though. Couldn’t take the risk that Steve would feel obligated, like he was somehow expected to make payment for services rendered. So he’d promised himself that if anything ever happened between them, Steve would initiate it. He had to let Steve make the first move. Bucky’s desires were nothing when measured against the importance of giving Steve something he could trust, giving Steve a home, even if it was only as big as an arm around his shoulders.

What Bucky wanted hardly mattered anyway, because Steve liked women, and Bucky wasn’t one. 

He tried be philosophical about it and not let the sharp edges of his own feelings cut him too deeply. It was the constant background ache of his existence, and it wasn’t so bad. 

Until Steve casually told Sam that he was bisexual, and immediately looked like he wished he could take the words back. 

He’d never even hinted that he liked guys. 

There had to be a reason for that.

How many times had Bucky reached for him, sat pressed up against him, bumped their shoulders together, ruffled his hair, tickled him? He knew he’d never kept that promise very well, but apparently he’d kept it so badly that Steve felt like he needed to hide that part of himself.

So Bucky pulled away, as much as he could given the confines of the van and the torment in his chest. And Steve noticed. Every time Steve leaned into the space where Bucky should be, every time he glanced back at the arm that wasn’t around his shoulders, Bucky felt the twin barbs of bitter satisfaction and terrible longing. He felt childish and small, and going out drinking and dancing only made it worse. And here he was, sprawled on a hotel bed, spending an entire hour picking over all the ways he’d fucked up his relationship with the person he loved most in the world. The only person he’d ever loved, if family didn’t count.

An hour. Shit, Steve really should have finished brushing his teeth by now.

Bucky got up to check on him. The bathroom light was off, and when he turned it on, he found Steve huddled against the tub, obviously in pain, squinting up with his hair falling over those heartbreaking blue eyes.

“Steve?” Bucky said, turning off the light. “Damn it, why didn’t you tell me?”

He knew why. He’d spent the whole day making Steve doubt the one thing he should be able to count on. Fuck.

“I get it,” Bucky said, edging closer, trying to find a way to fix the damage he’d done. “You don’t want to be there with me. But you still shouldn’t --”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve said. Bucky’s heart stuttered at hearing his name like that, like Steve needed him, and suddenly Steve’s hands were tangling in Bucky’s t-shirt.

He patted Steve’s back and shoulders, already imagining pulling him against his chest and holding him all night long. “You should be in bed.” 

“I’m fine,” Steve said.

Bucky went still. Steve hadn’t asked to be held. Steve hadn’t asked for anything. He couldn’t spend all night shivering against the tub, though. As casually as he could, Bucky said, “Yeah, sure. But Sam’s gonna need to use the bathroom eventually, and you don’t want to be in his way.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Okay.”

Bucky kept his hand on Steve’s shoulder and led him to the bed. After Steve curled up under the covers, Bucky couldn’t begin to sort out where things stood between them, so he whispered, “Should I go sleep in the chair?”

Steve hesitated. Even with a migraine, he _hesitated_ before he finally said, “No.”

Bucky curled up tight on the farthest edge of the bed, oh so careful not to get too close, and the broken shards of hope tore at him until he finally fell into some semblance of sleep.

So fucking careful, and he still woke up with his arm slung around Steve’s waist. His mouth was just centimeters from the back of Steve’s neck and his heart was full of ideas about closing that distance and pressing soft kisses along every bit of his skin.

He rolled away and pretended to be asleep, even when Steve got up a minute later.

He went over it again in his mind, which was easier to do without the alcohol in his system. Steve had reached for him. Steve had said his name and clutched his shirt. Steve had looked back at the arm that wasn’t around his shoulders and leaned in to the space where Bucky should have been.

It still was a good promise. Steve still had to make the first move. And when he did, Bucky would match him, move for move. That way he could be sure that whatever he gave was what Steve wanted. It was simple. He’d do what he did best.

He’d follow Steve.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of Chapter 6, from Bucky's point of view  
> Contains some spoilers for Chapter 7

It wasn’t that he was jealous, exactly. Bucky knew from long experience that Steve drew people to him. The guy was lit from within, he shone like the sun, everyone saw it. Most people flailed and kept their distance, some idiots tried to blank him out, and some helplessly circled around him and wished they could be part of that light. 

Bucky had been circling all his life, so he understood the feeling better than anybody. But this shit still didn’t make any sense.

He caught movement from the corner of his eye, and looked up to see Natasha approaching. 

He waved his phone at her, showing her their tumblr page. “Hey, Natasha. What’s with Steve having all these fangirls?”

“They find him attractive, obviously,” said Natasha.

“But why?” said Bucky.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and then it dawned on her. “He hasn’t been on camera. They’ve never seen him.”

“I checked youtube and tumblr and Kirby’s website. There’s not even a still shot of him.”

Natasha pondered it. Bucky knew he could trust her judgement. They’d had an unspoken agreement right from the beginning. Neither of them tried to get in each other’s way when it came to Steve. A shared attraction to someone who wasn’t interested in either of them was a weird basis for a relationship, sure, but somehow it had worked for them and they’d become friends over the years. Plus, she was careful to the point of being nearly paranoid, so if she wasn’t worried about this, then he didn’t need to be.

“He does have a great voice,” Natasha said.

Bucky nodded. “Absolutely. But nobody gets that kind of response for just their voice.”

Natasha snorted. “Ever try online gaming? I can’t say two words without some asshole begging for a blowjob. Though I suppose that doesn’t happen to people who are tenors or baritones.”

Bucky filed that thought away for the next time he wanted to watch Steve go on a rant. Steve’s rants were epic and glorious. Sometimes Bucky just couldn’t resist. “It’s weird though, right? All this focus on him?”

“You’re sure there are no pictures of him?” She grabbed his phone and started flipping through it.

“I’ve been trying to get him in front of a camera all semester. I’m sure.”

She frowned and handed his phone back. “Yeah, it’s weird. I don’t know what the hell it means, but it’s weird.” 

Bucky sighed. “All right. I’m gonna go find him. I wasn’t planning to say anything to him about it.”

“Not much to say, anyway. At least, not yet.”

They caught up with Maria first, just on the other side of the sculpture, and Bucky slumped onto the bench, since he could see Steve talking to Sam near the sticky note exhibit. 

Oh. Not just talking. Sam was filming, and Steve was smiling into the camera, charming as all hell even from here. 

Thank fuck Sam was already married. Bucky was jealous enough as it was. When they finally finished, they came over to the rest of the group. Bucky got up just as Steve shuffled backwards, so they missed and didn’t bump into each other.

“Finally letting the world see your face, huh?” Bucky said. “What changed your mind?”

Steve shrugged. “Sam asked.”

“Oh.” That hurt more than Bucky had expected. Wow. “Well, I guess I should thank him, ‘cause that never worked for me.”

Steve ignored that completely and said, “Did you get all the footage you wanted?”

“Yep. How’d your sticky love notes go?” Bucky asked, aiming for a casually flirty tone. 

It must not have worked. Steve just said, “Went fine.”

“Did you make one of your own?”

“No,” Steve said flatly.

Bucky knew better than to push. Too bad that didn’t stop him. “But if you had, what would you have drawn?”

“Don’t know.” 

Maria called over to them, “We need to get a picture. Come on, everybody in front of the Love sculpture.”

“I’ll take it,” Steve said, holding up the camera.

The rest of them arranged themselves for the picture, and Bucky tried to figure out what could have gone wrong. They’d been fine earlier that morning. He’d kept his hands to himself. He hadn’t done anything Steve hadn’t done first.

Some museum guy was talking to Steve, offering to take the picture. Natasha said, “Yeah, Steve, come over.”

Bucky went to the other side of the group. Surely he hadn’t fucked up enough to make Steve avoid him entirely. Not without knowing what he’d done.

The guide gave them a look. “It says ‘Love’, not ‘barely tolerate’. Get in there together.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile, because he _did_ love Steve. 

And Steve ... Oh, he pressed in so close and so fast. He looked up at Bucky like he wanted him, that light shining brighter than ever, and Bucky leaned forward without a thought, ready to kiss him senseless right in front of everybody.

“Uh, fellas?’ said the guide. “The picture?”

Bucky turned to face the camera, and Steve angrily mashed their shoulders together, and Bucky had no idea what was going on.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Everything went to shit. Steve kept dodging him, and he’d barely talk to him. Bucky knew he’d done the same fucking thing to Steve, back in Pennsylvania, and christ he probably deserved this but still ...

“What the hell, Steve? I thought we were past this. I thought we could -- “ _God, I thought you could love me. Please, I just,_ “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Whatever,” Bucky muttered, turning away before he could start to beg or call Steve an asshole. 

There was a story about an artist. Someone asked them, “How long did it take you to paint this?” and the artist answered, “My whole life.” Bucky didn’t know where the story came from. Steve would know. Steve remembered every damned thing. Anyway, that story was Steve all over. He’d spent a lifetime making the hardest things look effortless, and sometimes even Bucky forgot how much he kept hidden. 

More than anything, he wished Steve would trust him with it.

Caught up in being pissed off and hurt, Bucky barely registered the trip to the hotel, or the storm coming in.

They stumbled in the dark on their way down the stairs, and Bucky managed not to gasp when Steve took his hand. Managed not to hold on when Steve let go.

He couldn’t quite resist sitting beside him as they all circled up for Never Have I Ever, any more than he could resist ... “You kissed my knee one time, after you put a bandage on it. Remember?” 

“Oh, c’mon,” Steve said. “It doesn’t count unless it’s on the mouth.”

“I strongly disagree,” said Maria.

Bucky closed his eyes. It had counted for him. Just knowing that Steve cared. Fuck. It had counted a lot. 

“Never have I ever wanted to kiss any of you,” said Sam.

Shit, that meant Steve was either going to have to admit that he’d wanted to kiss Natasha, or admit that he hadn’t. Either way, nobody would be happy. Bucky said, “You sure about that, Sam? Not even when you saw the drawing Steve did for you?”

It was no wonder that Steve liked Sam so much. Seeing the tactic for what it was, Sam chuckled and said, “All right, fine. Never have I ever been to Ellis Island.”

Bucky put in his hand, along with Steve, Maria, and Natasha. 

“Not even on a class trip?” said Maria.

“My school didn’t do field trips,” said Sam, patting all their hands. “And that’s everybody.”

“Never have I ever used the women’s restroom,” said Bucky. He tapped hands and said, “Maria and Natasha. No more hitting Steve.”

“Never have I ever eaten pineapple upside-down cake,” said Steve, and it felt like a gift. Like a declaration that they were on the same team.

“You two are disgusting,” said Natasha.

“Oh, yeah. Steve only got allergies so we could win this game,” Bucky said, making sure to say ‘we’. They weren’t a couple, but they had always been a pair. They could always be a pair.

Steve said, “After all these years, it finally paid off.”

“That’s my Stevie, always taking one for the team.” And just like that, Bucky took it way too far. ‘My Stevie’ was bad enough, the rest was a disaster.

Except.

Steve was suddenly so close, murmuring in Bucky’s ear, “Actually, I’ve never taken one at all.”

It sounded like an _offer_ , like the best possible offer, and Bucky’s breath hitched as he turned, desperate to accept.

“Never have I ever watched porn,” Maria said, and there went the moment.

Damn. He put his hand into the circle, and Steve’s fingertips lingered for a second against Bucky’s palm, and Bucky didn’t know whether he should read anything into that.

Sam laughed and said, “Even if we limit it to the last twenty-four hours, we’d be out.” 

Natasha snorted. “Whoa, what’s been going on in your hotel room?” 

“Oh, please,” said Bucky. “What’s been going on in yours?”

“Do not answer that,” said Sam. “I really don’t want to know.”

“Never have I ever been married,” said Natasha.

Sam laughed. “Defeat has never felt so fantastic.”

The power came back on, and light flooded the stairwell. Bucky stood up and put his hand down, hoping like hell that Steve would take it.

Steve didn’t even hesitate, pulling himself up by Bucky’s hand and knocking their shoulders together, so maybe everything was okay between them again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during Bucky and Steve's Senior year of high school

Bucky scanned through the display cases, looking for just the right thing, whatever it might be. They’d been to this museum together so many times, there wasn’t much Steve hadn’t already seen, but Bucky would find something new, some reason to run back and find him and pull him over. Some excuse to throw his arm around his shoulders and laugh with him.

There was a sugar bowl, the kind of blown glass that Steve liked. The bowl was a shocking shade of blue, but it wasn’t the right shade of blue. That singular, achingly bright blue of the summer sky. It wasn’t that.

There were cups, plates, doorknobs, a beautiful little table with a top that could flip down, chairs, vases, a dagger, a butter churn.

Oh. The dagger. That was what he needed. He turned around, scanning for the shock of golden hair that was always the first thing he looked for. Steve was probably about three rooms behind him, though, so as he stalked back along his path, he thought about what he’d say when Steve asked ‘Why a dagger?’ 

Steve always asked why, and if Bucky answered just right, Steve would tilt his head and smile up at him and his eyes would shine, summer-sky blue. 

‘It’s deceptive,’ Bucky explained in his head. ‘It seems delicate and fragile, gleaming in the light like that. You could almost forget that it’s dangerous, but it’s still so powerful. It -- ‘

Fuck. Bucky couldn’t tell Steve all that. He’d see right through it. (Steve always saw right through Bucky. It was kinda wonderful, having someone know him that well and still like him, but it was also damned unnerving sometimes.) 

But it was too late now. Golden hair, square jaw, and a familiar ache, there was Steve, already approaching. 

“What’d you find?” Steve asked.

“You’ll see it when we get there.” Bucky slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders, careful not to pull him in too close. “What were you looking at?”

“American Neoclassical Sculpture.” 

“Ooo, sexy marble statues,” Bucky said, just to watch Steve roll his eyes.

It worked. “Yeah, Mourning Victory, so hot.”

Bucky couldn’t help laughing. He’d never quite figured out what Steve’s tastes were when it came to women, but he knew enough to figure that mourning wasn’t on the list. “Well, I didn’t find you anything sexy, but I think you’ll like it. Look there.”

Bucky pointed, his finger hovering well away from the display, and Steve’s eyes followed along, narrowing as they found their mark. He was so gorgeous like this, focused and pure. (He was always gorgeous. He was always pure.)

And there it came, the raised eyebrow and the quirk of his lips. “Why a dagger?”

Bucky looked at it again, and inspiration struck. “It’s got drawings on it in that style you like, all sketchy and loose.”

Steve _grinned_. Bucky dimly wished that he’d prepared himself for that, because it was the kind of grin that made his heart lurch sideways. Bucky had kissed and been kissed, and had never felt as breathlessly alive as he did when Steve smiled at him like that.

“It’s probably in the nature of the medium,” Steve said, turning back to the dagger. Bucky waited, figuring that Steve would go on once he’d collected his thoughts, which he did. “There’s no card or anything, but I think it’s etched with acid. You wouldn’t get a chance to make guidelines or erase your mistakes with that, you’d just have to let it flow and take what you got. It’s sort of daring, you know?”

Steve glanced up, and Bucky chuckled, all casual and easy, not a bit breathless. “Makes sense you’d like the bravest kinds of art. That’s you all over.”

Steve heard, but he didn’t listen, frowning a little and rolling his eyes as if Bucky’d been teasing. 

(Someday, somebody would get Steve to listen, and he’d believe her when she told him he was brave and strong. That he was perfect. She’d deserve him, like nobody else could.)

“I was serious,” Bucky said. “You watched that show on chainsaw carving three times.”

“It was cool,” Steve said, his frown softening.

Bucky laughed. “Whose side are you arguing?”

Steve blew on his bangs, making them swing up for a second and fall back right where they’d been.

“Glass blowing?” Bucky said.

Steve groaned. “That’s not fair.”

“Right. It’s basically sculpting, but with lava. Nothing brave about that.”

“Shut up,” Steve said, shoving Bucky’s ribs. Bucky swayed with it, and Steve swayed with him, keeping within the curve of Bucky’s arm. “Besides, I don’t actually blow glass or carve with chainsaws.”

“That’s what’s called ‘moving the goalposts’,” Bucky said, and for once he managed to keep his stupid mouth shut about how dangerous glassblowing would be for someone with asthma. He’d save that for when Steve eventually tried it. “All I said was that you liked art that required bravery. And now you can add using acid to decorate sharp objects to the list.”

“But I like it because it reminds me of Rembrandt. He used pen and ink for his sketches. No danger there.” He was all smug superiority, and Bucky loved it, but he was also wrong, and they both knew it.

“Thought you said he ruined his career by doing what he wanted instead of doing what was popular,” Bucky said.

“That’s -- “ Steve frowned with his entire face, and Bucky snorted a laugh.

“You want to show me Mourning Victory?” Bucky asked. Normally he’d go off by himself so that Steve wouldn’t get tired out, but ... He didn’t want to. Steve had been part of him since before he could remember, but he knew better than to think that he’d have him forever. A lifetime of wasted moments stretched out behind him, and he didn’t want to add to it right now.

Steve looked a little surprised, but he smiled. “Sure. It’s actually a replica, though. The original is in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery.”

“Seriously? That’s a thing?”

“Apparently it is,” Steve said, spreading his hands out wide like he did when he was baffled.  
He looked up at Bucky and smiled again.

Bucky smiled back, because he’d never had a choice.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drive through Kansas, set before and during chapter 9

Steve still had a little bit of rainbow left in his hair.

Bucky tried not to stare, tried not to be creepy.

But with sunshine and rainbows leaning against his shoulder ... Bucky took a lot of glances. A lot of long, helpless glances.

And when Steve slumped further over and pressed his cheek against Bucky’s chest ... Well, Bucky didn’t exactly stop that from happening. He kept his hands to himself, but instead of tucking Steve back up onto his shoulder, he sort of twisted sideways, angling himself so Steve wouldn’t slip all the way down and plant his face in Bucky’s lap.

Which wasn’t to say he’d avoided _imagining_ that happening. He was only human. 

In his imagination, Steve was very much awake, and they weren’t in a car, and --

Bucky forced himself to look out the window rather than chase that thought any further.

So far, Kansas was just as flat and featureless as everyone said it would be. There weren’t even trees, just fields of what must be wheat stretching out to the horizon in every direction, with a ribbon of asphalt bisecting them.

There was an overpass, far in the distance, and Bucky kept his eyes on it, feeling like they were standing still and it was coming toward them.

Inevitably, he looked down again. He just wanted to watch as --

Sunlight and shadow and sunlight again. Steve’s hair shined and glowed and shined in the light, a sweet, golden temptation.

“Oh cool,” said Natasha, probably not about Steve. Bucky snapped his head up, in a pathetic attempt to pretend he hadn’t been staring. Natasha flipped down the sun visor so she could smirk at him in the mirror before she nodded out the side window.

A field of yellow stretched out to the edge of the world, full of sunflowers, all of them bobbing and swaying in the light breeze.

“We should -- “ Maria cut herself off and frowned. “Guess there’s not much point in filming it.”

“There’s really nowhere safe to pull over, anyway,” Sam said, with a sympathetic shrug.

Bucky pulled out his phone and took as many pictures as he could before they passed the field. The new phone had a decent camera, and he managed to get a shot that was good enough to show to Steve later.

He went a little too fast putting his phone away. Steve snorted, and Bucky was sure he’d woken him up, but Steve stayed asleep and just turned his head the other direction.

The other direction was so much worse, though. Now Bucky could see his impossible eyelashes, so long that even his crooked glasses couldn’t hide them. And his lips. Jesus, there’d never been a more kissable pair of lips, even if he was drooling a little. Oh no, and the soft, soft skin, just there --

A harsh buzzing noise snapped Bucky out of his thoughts.

Steve’s new phone. They’d texted each other as soon as they’d gotten them, and Bucky recognised the ringtone. 

He really didn’t want to wake him up, but it could be important, so he said quietly, “Hey, I think you got a text.”

Bucky probably should have foreseen what would happen next, because it was the same thing that usually happened when someone tried to wake up Steve.

He’d just never considered what it would feel like from the pillow’s perspective.

Steve crinkled his forehead, buried his nose against Bucky’s chest, and mumbled something unintelligible right against Bucky’s t-shirt. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Bucky hadn’t just been thinking about how kissable he was. 

Bucky had been, though. Still was, as a matter of fact. Especially now that those glorious lips were turning up in a sleepy, contented smile.

“Steve!” Natasha said, loudly.

Bucky whispered, “Shut up.” 

It was too late, though. Steve was already sitting up and pushing away. He blinked in confusion, absently wiping his mouth as he stared at Bucky’s shirt.

That was when Bucky realized he was blushing. Shit. 

Steve straightened his glasses. “What?”

“Check your phone,” Natasha said. 

Steve dug into his pocket, squishing himself against Bucky’s side in the process. He glanced over, and Bucky gave him a stunned little smile. 

Once he got the text open, Steve held the phone out so they could read it together.

Matt had decided to be their lawyer, and he wanted to listen to that shitty phone call. 

Steve grimaced and muttered, “I liked sleeping better.”

“Oh. Okay. Here, I’ll text him. You can sleep,” Bucky said, without even thinking. 

Luckily, he managed to stop talking before he used the word “cuddle” or anything, but holy shit it had been a near thing. Bucky bit his lip to keep any more ideas from tumbling out.

“Sure, Buck. That’d be great.” Steve put his phone in Bucky’s hand. He blinked for a moment, put his glasses in his pocket, and leaned against Bucky’s shoulder like normal.

It wasn’t even disappointing. With the way this trip had been going, normal was pretty good.

Bucky frowned at the phone, not sure what Steve wanted. “Can he open the file, listen to the call?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Foggy too?”

“Sure.”

One syllable answers from Steve were usually a bad sign. Rather than start typing in a reply, Bucky said, “It’s not going to change how they think about you.”

“I know,” Steve said wearily. 

Bucky let the subject go and started texting.

He didn’t expect for Steve to hug him around the waist. He definitely didn’t expect for Steve to take hold of the bottom of his shirt.

The backs of his fingers brushed Bucky’s skin, just above his jeans, and Bucky lost his breath for a second.

If this was a new thing they were doing, Bucky was in favor of it.

One hundred percent in favor of it, jesus. 

Bucky wriggled his arm free, blissfully relieved that Steve stayed put.

Suddenly, he was holding Steve in his arms, and Steve gave a tiny little sigh and nestled in closer.

Oh wow.

Bucky sent off a quick text to Matt then tucked away Steve’s phone.

And he held Steve in his arms.

Wow.

Steve had danced with him. In the gift shop, back in St. Louis. Bucky would have thought that was an impossibility, too, but Steve had done it, looking up through his lashes and swaying to the music. Bucky knew how Steve felt about dancing. There was really only one reason he’d have done that.

And this ...

Oh wow.

Someday. Maybe when they got back home, and Steve had the chance to process everything. He’d get quiet and shy, say something about friendship and what they meant to each other. Knowing Steve, he’d have a whole speech planned out, possibly with historical references. Carefully worded, offering to maybe try dating each other. 

“I’d love to date you, Stevie,” Bucky would answer, making sure to emphasize the word love.

Even if that didn’t happen, Bucky knew now that he wouldn’t wait forever.

He’d give it a week after they got back home, and if Steve didn’t ask, Bucky would.

He wasn’t going to let this go.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Steve's point of view, this is what happened at Red Rocks Park, after chapter 9

Steve wrapped his arms around himself, and not just because it was cold. He hadn’t known Sam all that long, but he’d never expected to see him like this, so quiet and withdrawn.

He glanced back. Bucky was watching, concerned and curious, sleepy in spite of the two cups of coffee he’d downed at Logan’s less than an hour ago. Maria and Natasha were beside him, leaning into each other and talking softly.

“Thank you,” Sam said. Steve wasn’t sure if it was directed at him, so instead of answering, he patted Sam’s elbow. Sam still didn’t look at him. He looked around at the towering shards of rock, glowing like flame in the early morning light. “I really thought I could do this alone, but ... “

“You probably could. But you don’t have to.”

Sam huffed some approximation of a laugh. “I trained with him. Served with him. He was -- You said before, it’s a privilege. He was -- “

Shaking his head, Sam turned away and walked further down the path. Steve followed, slowly enough that he’d only catch up if Sam wanted him to.

It seemed like he did. Steve stepped up beside him, keeping pace. Sam heaved in a breath and said, “He’s buried in DC. Arlington. I was -- We brought him back. Didn’t leave him behind.”

Steve couldn’t stop himself from imagining it. The physical reality of what it must have been like to carry someone out. What he would have felt like if it was someone he knew. If it was his friend. If it was --

(“I chose him. I’d choose him again. Every day. Forever. It’s not like family, like an obligation. It’s a privilege.”)

No. Steve couldn’t let himself imagine that. He forced his thoughts elsewhere. “When -- I know it’s not the same, but ... “

Sam nodded for him to go on, still not looking at him.

“On the anniversary ... Mr. Barnes took me to Central Park. There was ... Mom’s favorite spot was the pond by the Met. Near the castle. We went there, and ... She liked giraffes and I drew one and ... I mean, I was just a kid, but it helped some. Leaving it there for her. Like maybe she’d know that I didn’t forget her. If ... I have some paper. And a pencil. If you want.” Steve managed to stop rambling and pulled his notebook out of his pocket. He checked to make sure the stubby pencil was still tucked into the coils before he held it out, feeling a lot like the kid he’d been then, so helpless in the face of all that grief. It had been nine years now, and sometimes it still overwhelmed him.

Sam did look at him then. With the saddest smile, he stopped and took the notebook from Steve’s hand. “Couldn’t hurt.”

He flipped to an empty page. Hesitated. And wrote.

Maria and Natasha were too far away to talk to, looking around at the striations on the jagged rock walls. 

Bucky was with them, solid and gorgeous in the glow of the morning sun. 

Steve could hear the scratch of pencil on paper, the sound of saying goodbye. He turned away. He didn’t want to think about that while he was looking at Bucky. Didn’t want to think about missed chances.

Sam finished writing and held the notebook out. Steve took it, wondering what he was supposed to do, and Sam started climbing the nearest of the big rocks. 

Steve didn’t mean to read it. He glanced down, and the words were there, and ...

_Hey dumbass._  
_Wish you could’ve been there for the wedding. I’d have made you wear the worst tux. Powder blue. With extra ruffles. You know Carol would’ve let me. You would’ve had to stand up and give a speech in it, too._  
_I miss you, cornfed._

He didn’t know whether to smile or cry. Maybe both. He carefully tore out the page.

When Sam got near the top, he looked down at Steve and reached out, so Steve handed up the paper. 

After he climbed down, he brushed off his hands and said, “Thanks. I think it does help a little.”

Steve knew that sometimes, a little was the best you could get. “Good. Did you want to walk around some more?”

“Nah, we should get on the road. I’m, uh ... I’m just going to call Carol real quick.”

“Oh! Yeah. I’ll see you at the car.”

Sam nodded, already getting out his phone.

Steve caught up with the others, and knocked his shoulder into Bucky’s. Everyone looked curious, but he was glad that nobody asked about it. Maria and Natasha hooked their elbows together, and Bucky slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders, and they walked in comfortable silence back to the car. Even when Steve shivered from the cold, Bucky just plucked at his own jacket and raised his eyebrows, making a wordless offer. 

Steve smiled at him and shook his head. He was already a little warmer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Bucky and Steve's Freshman year at Kirby University

Sitting alone in their dorm while Steve was out with Peggy really sucked, and Bucky ended up choking back tears as he realized that this was the only time he’d really missed having a boyfriend.

He thought the crying was why he felt so stuffy headed and run down the next morning.

Then the coughing started. And the sniffling, and the fever. All of that, in spite of the flu vaccine.

He tried. God, he tried not to let Steve take care of him, but he was so tired. 

He let Steve cancel a date with Peggy. He let Steve pile on blankets and curl up beside him on the bottom bunk. Steve’s bunk. Steve’s blankets. Everything was Steve, and Bucky was too weak to say no.

As soon as the fever broke, he got out of their room as much as he could. For a few days, it seemed like it had worked, and he had miraculously avoided bringing Steve down with him.

He should have known better. Should have noticed that Steve didn’t say anything when Bucky came back to their room, just waved and went back to texting Peggy.

Bucky didn’t notice. He climbed up into his bunk, still so fucking tired, and fell asleep.

He woke up to the sound of Steve’s muffled coughs.

Bucky knew the sound, in all its variations. This was the scary kind. The exhausted, maybe delirious kind. 

He leapt down from his bunk and put his hand on Steve’s forehead.

Steve was terrifyingly hot. 

He didn’t flinch from Bucky’s hand.

Fuck. Oh, fuck.

“Steve? Hey, Stevie, I need you to talk to me for a sec.”

Steve frowned a little, and didn’t bury his face in his pillow. 

“Please, Stevie, please, you gotta wake up for me.”

Steve frowned again, and _whimpered_. 

Bucky grabbed his phone and sent out a text.

Bucky- **911 Need to get Steve to Dr.**

He started to get dressed, and got a text back before he even had his jeans zipped. 

Wade - **On way.**

Skipping his socks, Bucky pulled on his boots. He shrugged into Steve’s jacket, checking the pockets. Epipen, inhaler. He grabbed Steve’s pillbox and tucked it into a pocket, put his glasses in another. Grabbed an extra pair of Steve’s socks, and some sweatpants.

His hands were shaking. He wished he’d eaten more than a pop-tart for dinner.

Time to quit stalling.

He slipped his arms under Steve and heaved him up, wrapping the covers around him as best he could. 

Steve was barely aware enough to help keep their balance, though he did manage to mutter against Bucky’s shoulder, “No, ‘m fine.”

He took a long breath, and Bucky could hear it rattle. He’d only ever heard that once before.

It was not good.

Getting out into the hallway was hard, angling them both around the bed that filled most of the room. He found himself suddenly grateful that the door had a lever instead of a knob, so he could hook it open with two fingers. The door to the stairs he could kick open.

That left the stairs themselves. Bucky leaned against the wall for a minute, just to rest, just long enough to not feel so light-headed.

“Here,” said Wade, bounding up the stairs two at a time. “I can carry him.”

Bucky scowled at him and held Steve tighter.

Wade rolled his eyes. “You look like warmed over mayonnaise, and you’d never forgive yourself if you dropped him down the fucking stairs. Give.”

Gritting his teeth, Bucky turned so that Wade could reach in and take Steve. They got down the stairs and outside pretty quickly after that. 

Bucky hurried to open the door to the backseat of Wade’s car, barely noticing that it was parked in the fire lane, unlocked and with the engine running. He climbed in, and together he and Wade maneuvered Steve inside and buckled his seatbelt.

Wade got in and drove without saying a word, which was so strange that Bucky couldn’t keep himself from filling the silence. “I think it’s pneumonia. He had it once before and -- It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have -- I made him sick.”

“Yeah, you really oughta quit doing medical experiments on your roommate,” Wade said cheerfully.

Bucky was tired enough that he almost missed that it was supposed to be a joke, that Wade was trying to cheer him up. He scrubbed his face. “It was shitty of me to ask you for help, after everything.”

Wade shrugged and whipped the car around a corner much too fast. “You need him to be okay. I get that. Besides, I like him, too.”

Bucky sighed and wrapped Steve’s blankets more securely around his shoulders, until Steve crinkled his nose up and tried to shift around.

“Steve? Hey, you awake? C’mon and wake up Stevie.”

“Nooo,” Steve moaned quietly, tucking his chin against his shoulder. Bucky would have given up and let him sleep.

Apparently Wade wouldn’t. “Hey Steve, wake up. You’re scaring the shit out of Bucky.”

“Nuh uh.” Steve frowned and opened one eye, ready for a fight even now. “Buck’s not scared of anything.”

“He’s scared of losing you,” Wade said, almost exactly what Bucky had been thinking.

“Fuck you. Tha‘s not funny.” Steve’s face twisted up and he tried to pull the covers over his head, but Bucky pulled them back down. Glassy eyed and devastated, Steve looked at Bucky. “Not fair. It’s not fair.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Bucky said, brushing Steve’s hair off his forehead. Steve hated people seeing him when he was sick, and it wasn’t fair. “But you’re not breathing so good, and you need all the air you can get.”

Steve rolled his head back in annoyance. “Hospital?”

“Afraid so.”

The heavy sigh Steve gave set him off on a coughing jag, gross wet coughs that left him shaking and exhausted as they pulled up at the ER.

“Hang on, I’ll come around for you,” Bucky said, already dashing out his door. Luckily, Steve was too tired to move very fast, so he didn’t get out before Bucky got to him. 

As he braced himself to help Steve up, Bucky turned to Wade. “Thanks. And ... Sorry. For all of it.”

“No problem. Let me know if you guys need anything, or want to hook up.” Wade gave a big grin, and Bucky heaved Steve out of the car and closed the door.

Steve was shivering and didn’t have anything on his feet. Bucky tucked the blankets around him and picked him up, knowing it would piss him off. There just wasn’t any other option.

He didn’t protest much, tired as he was from all the coughing. He shoved at Bucky’s shoulder a little and muttered, “I can walk.”

“I know,” Bucky said, and carried him inside.

***

It only took about an hour to get Steve admitted and in a room. That was scary in itself, a sure sign that the doctors were concerned. Steve fading in and out of responsiveness was pretty fucking scary, too. They almost didn’t let Bucky in Steve’s room, either, even after he showed that they had the same address on their driver’s licenses. Luckily one of the nurses remembered Steve’s mom from when she worked there, and confirmed that they were ‘brothers’. 

Much as Bucky hated the whole ‘brothers’ thing, he was terrified that it would lose all its power some day.

Of course, by then, Steve might have a wife. 

Which was no comfort at all.

He sent out texts, to Natasha and to Mom, letting them know about the pneumonia and the hospital.

By the time Bucky got back to him, Steve had tubes and wires hooked up all over, and was propped up with the bed folded almost upright.

He turned when Bucky got closer. “Too pale. You gotta eat, Buck. Shoulda ... Shoulda made you eat more.”

“I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. Let’s take care of you now.”

“Not dying. I’m not.”

“You’re not. You’ve beaten this before.”

“She was alone, Bucky, she was all alone when she died, I don’t wanna be alone.”

Oh fuck. He never talked about his mom, and he never looked scared like this. 

“Hey, shh, it’s okay,” Bucky whispered. He took Steve’s hand, careful not to dislodge the oxygen sensor on his finger. “It’s okay. Just rest now.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, catching teardrops on his lashes. “Will you stay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay.” Steve made what seemed like a valiant attempt to relax, pushing his head back against the tiny antiseptic pillows and shuddering with his whole body. But as soon as Bucky shifted to find a more comfortable position for hunching over the bed rail, Steve’s eyes flew open again. His voice was too quiet to hear, but his lips were moving, a silent refrain of, “Don’t go. Don’t go. Please.”

“I’m right here. I’ll stay with you. And you -- You’ll stay with me, too.”

“With you?” Steve whispered.

Bucky nodded, as if he could make it be true. “Yeah. With me. We gotta stick together. I recorded that show about Ben Franklin, remember? You have to watch it with me when we get back.”

“Ben Franklin,” Steve said, solemn, like a promise.

“Right. And there’s so many nature shows we haven’t watched yet. Koalas, and buffalos. You gotta watch them with me or I won’t -- I don’t pay attention when you’re not there. I need you with me. I need you Stevie, you’re my best friend, you can’t -- Can’t let me watch them by myself.”

Steve let his eyes fall closed and mumbled, “With you.”

“That’s right. With me.” 

Steve was already asleep, the jagged line of the heart monitor tracing out his regular, slightly off-beat rhythm.

Bucky talked anyway. He talked about shows they’d watch, and food they’d eat. Described paintings they’d see again. Recited every line of poetry he knew. Every love song. 

He whispered, “Always,” and promised, “Forever”.

He meant every word.

At some point he pulled over a chair, and sat with his head resting on Steve’s pillow. Put his hand on Steve’s wrist, away from the iv. Fell asleep repeating, “I’m here, I’m with you.”

Morning came, sunlight bouncing off the white walls of the courtyard the window looked over, and Steve woke them both up by hacking slimy crap out of his lungs.

There were tubes up his nose, and his lips were chapped and rough.

He was so goddamn gorgeous Bucky wanted to cry. He was lit from within again, blinking those bright blue eyes, looking sleepy but so much more alert than last night.

“Hey,” Steve said, with a soft little smile.

There had been plenty of time for Bucky to come up with what to say, to let Steve know what was going on without making him feel too bad about it.

“Guess that pneumonia vaccine didn’t take.”

Steve frowned, “Guess not.”

The frown was just as much of a relief as the smile had been. It was _Steve,_ and Bucky couldn’t resist reaching out to him. Steve’s hair was still like sunshine, even after sweating through a fever, and he leaned closer as Bucky ran his fingers through it.

“You always were an anomaly,” said Bucky.

Steve huffed a little laugh. “Oh, thanks.”

“Well, you’re like a Tigger,” Bucky said, and the smile he got in return was more than enough encouragement to go on. Still stroking his hair, Bucky sang, “Oh, the wonderful thing about Rogers, is Steve is a wonderful --”

“Hello?” called a voice from behind him.

Bucky snapped out of the sweet revery he’d fallen into and turned to the door. Nobody who worked here would sound so diffident, and it wasn’t Mom or Natasha, so that meant --

“Peggy?” Steve said, his eyes seeking her out.

“Is this a bad time to visit?” Peggy asked, directing it at Bucky. 

“No, not at all,” Bucky said. She had on a medical mask, but he could still see the way she looked at him, as he brushed his fingers through her boyfriend’s hair and made up a song about how much he loved him. No, no, he couldn’t let this ruin everything for Steve. He snatched his hand away from Steve and went to meet Peggy. “Bucky Barnes.”

“Ah, the infamous roommate,” said Peggy, raising her eyebrow. “Peggy Carter.”

“Is that what he calls me, his roommate? ‘Cause I think of us more like brothers,” he said, wanting to sound innocuous, but knowing that he sounded like he was staking a claim. Because he was. She could love him, she could marry him, but she couldn’t have all of him.

“He calls you his friend,” said Peggy, as an uneasy sort of truce.

“He’s right here,” grumbled Steve.

“C’mon, it’s okay.” Bucky guided Peggy closer to the bed, closer to Steve, and did what he could to put her at ease. “That’s the IV for his antivirals. That’s the sensor for his oxygen.” 

But he glanced up, and Steve was pulling at his tubing on his face, and Bucky was exhausted from lack of sleep and the terrors of last night, and he snapped at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Steve. I will staple that god damned thing to your face if I have to.”

Steve froze and said, “Okay.” 

Bucky knew his face was giving away everything, that his attempts to reassure Peggy about where things stood were completely ruined, but he was so goddamn tired and he loved Steve too much to really hide it.

“Okay,” Steve said again, not even seeming to notice Peggy anymore, and it was horrible and it was wonderful, and Bucky couldn’t stand it.

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Look, I’ll let you guys have some privacy. See you later. Nice meeting you, Carter.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just bolted for the door.

He went back after she’d gone, with a pitcher of water and a carefully carefree smile. He joked and told stories whenever Steve was awake.

He didn’t make up any more songs or whisper any more promises.

Peggy never went out with Steve again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place between Chapter 16 and Chapter 17

Bucky stared down at his cocoa. He missed Steve already, after only a few minutes. 

Last night had been a fiasco, but the good parts had been so good, and knowing that Steve was in the shower, all slippery wet, just on the other side of that wall ... Bucky tapped his fingers against his mug to distract himself. 

He was used to wanting Steve. He felt like he’d been doing that forever. 

Being wanted by Steve was something else entirely. 

Steve kissed the same way he did everything else, honest and straightforward. Like he _meant_ it. He pushed and he pulled, somehow managing to be generous and demanding at the very same time, and it was glorious. 

And god, the things he would say. _“I want you,”_ and _“Bucky, please, don’t stop.”_

Bucky hadn’t stopped. Had kissed Steve’s neck and ground down against him, so turned on and desperate to give himself up to him. 

He glanced at the wall again, and tapped his fingers a little faster, trying not to think about strong, clever hands tugging at his hair.

“Are you worried about him?”

Jesus, Bucky damn near spilled hot chocolate everywhere. He’d kind of forgotten that Janet was there, puttering around the kitchen, making coffee and setting out doughnuts.

“Um, not really? Not anymore. Steve’s tough.” He knew he could never explain, about everything Steve had been through, how he had managed to be so strong and so good in spite of it all. “He’s ridiculously tough. I wish he didn’t always have to be, but he is.”

“I suppose being on the road doesn’t help,” Janet said, frowning a little.

“This was our big chance to travel, though,” Bucky said, carefully dodging any discussion about Hank Pym’s involvement, or about what exactly he and Steve had been doing to kick off the asthma attack last night. “We finally got to go all the way across the country together. Or at least mostly.”

Janet lit up with excitement. “Oh! You haven’t been to the beach yet? You can’t come all this way and not see the ocean.”

***

It took a while. 

They worked on the video all morning, Bucky and Steve tucked into a corner beside the recliner with their shoulders touching, but not enough privacy to do much else. Then they all went over to Howard Stark’s mansion to eat lunch and get measured for new clothes for the wedding, which was not something Bucky had ever expected to have on his to-do list.

But finally they all changed into their swim stuff and went out the back door, and a few steps later they were on the beach, Steve’s hair glinting in the sunlight. Maria and Natasha dashed into the water, laughing and shoving at each other, sneaking in as much skin contact as possible while Sam walked along the sand in the other direction. Peggy and Janet went with him, pointing out landmarks along the shore.

Steve took Bucky’s hand and led the way to a big umbrella that had a blanket set up under it. As soon as they got to it, Steve tossed down his jacket and said, “Oh. I guess ... We can swim, if you want to. This might be our only -- “

Bucky kissed him, and Steve didn’t take any time at all to start kissing back. Hell, if there had been a wall handy, Bucky was pretty sure Steve would have shoved him up against it, like he’d done back in Reno, and damn, wasn’t that a nice thought.

Possibly a little too nice, under the circumstances. Bucky eased off, giving Steve one more soft little kiss as he went.

“Swimming is so overrated,” Steve said contentedly.

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, well, most things are, compared to that.”

Christ, Steve’s smile was blindingly brilliant, with a touch of surprise that Bucky wished he could erase. But they were out in front of everybody, dammit, they were always out in front of everybody, which meant there was only so much Bucky could do. He ran his fingers up Steve’s arms, up into the sleeves of his t-shirt. The shirt with Jiji on the front. _Bucky’s_ t-shirt, and god he liked seeing it on Steve.

“There’s nothing I’d rather do than kiss you,” Bucky murmured, barely louder than the sound of the surf. “Nothing at all.”

“I can think of a few things I’d like to do,” Steve said. His cheeks had gone all pink, and there was a wicked quirk to his lips. 

“Instead of kissing, or in addition?” Bucky said, smirking casually, as if Steve hadn’t just made it impossible to think or breathe.

Steve raised an eyebrow and smirked right back. “That depends. Does it only count if it’s on the lips?”

“Everything counts with you. That time you hit me in the mouth back in eighth grade? Totally counts as a kiss now.”

“Nooo!” Steve said, laughing and pulling Bucky down so they both ended up sitting on the blanket. “That was an accident, and it definitely doesn’t count. There’s no such thing as retroactive kisses.”

“Nope, I’m counting it.” Bucky scooted over close enough that he could hook his knee over Steve’s calf, so their sandy toes were all lined up together.

“You can count it if you want, I guess. But from now on, they should be on purpose. I want to be able to appreciate all of them. Every kiss.”

His eyes were so blue, and so fucking earnest. Bucky fell in love all over again, like he always did. “Okay, I won’t count it. That means we’re down one kiss, though. Don’t know how we’ll catch up.”

Steve tried hard to cover a smile. “Really? No ideas on how to balance out the numbers?”

Bucky shrugged innocently and spread his hands out. 

Steve’s smile almost broke free at that. “You’re the math expert, but there is one thing we could try.”

“Yeah?” Bucky leaned closer and tilted his head.

Steve stuck his hand in front of Bucky’s mouth. Knowing Steve, he probably remembered which hand he’d accidentally hit Bucky with, back in eighth grade. The look on his face was mostly a challenge, with just a trace of worry. 

Looking into Steve’s eyes, Bucky bent forward, cupped Steve’s hand in his own, and pressed a soft, gentle kiss against his palm, which finally got Steve to smile. 

Then Bucky tongued Steve’s palm as fiercely as he could. Steve laughed so hard he toppled over backwards, and Bucky went with him, propping himself on one elbow and looking down into Steve’s scrunched up face. 

As soon as Steve recovered a little, he wiped his hand down Bucky’s cheek, sticky wet with Bucky’s own spit, and laughed again. 

Bucky laughed too, caught up in all the joy that came with loving Steve. It was hard to imagine anything better than watching him like this, giggling and carefree.

Then Steve pulled him closer and kissed him, and yeah, that was even better.

Oh christ, the things he would’ve done if they were alone just then. Run his hands up under Steve’s shirt, tell him again and again how fucking hot he was.

Steve leaned back, and Bucky didn’t chase his lips the way he wanted. 

“Do you remember when I first got glasses?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, trying to reorient his brain enough to follow Steve’s train of thought. 

It didn’t work. 

“Your eyes were the first thing I saw,” Steve said. He reached out, gently, gently, and brushed his fingertip over Bucky’s eyelashes. “So beautiful.”

Which didn’t help Bucky reorient his brain at all. 

He bit his lip, because it was the only way he could stop himself from kissing Steve over and over, but he didn’t stop himself from sliding his hand across Steve’s shoulder and brushing his thumb over his throat.

Steve’s eyes fluttered closed for a second before he looked up at Bucky again, with that same frustration they’d both been feeling since Wyoming.

Bucky rolled onto his back and looked up at the umbrella, pressing their shoulders together, finding Steve’s hand and lacing their fingers together.

“Do you think ...” Steve said, hesitantly, “If we hadn’t gone on this trip, we still would’ve figured this out, right?”

Steve was, without a doubt, the bravest person Bucky had ever known. He was the guy who had argued with Professor Fury, during class, and won. He charged into fights to protect people twice his size. But Bucky never wanted to be the reason for Steve to be brave. Any chance he got to lift that burden, he would take. 

So instead of saying ‘I don’t know,’ Bucky said, “Hell, apparently Nat was just waiting for the chance to knock our heads together. I’m sure she would have found some excuse to do it.”

Steve chuckled a little. “I guess so. At her birthday party or something.”

“That does sound like her. She’d make us play spin the bottle until we had to kiss each other.”

Steve was quiet for a moment, maybe thinking about how neither of them would have agreed to play spin the bottle, and how they might not have gone to Natasha’s birthday party at all, even if they had been invited.

“Anyway, we did figure it out,” Bucky said, squeezing Steve’s hand. “And I didn’t get to say --”

“Hey, it’s time for the fittings!” Maria shouted.

Steve sat up and reached for his jacket, with a little frown on his face. 

Bucky caught his wrist.

“I like it, too. Being in love with you.” That same swooping delight he’d felt when Steve said it yesterday rose up when Steve smiled, so Bucky said it again. “I like it so much, Steve.”

Peggy and Janet and Sam were coming back up toward the house, and Maria and Natasha were drying themselves off nearby. 

Steve glanced around at all of them, and he still leaned in and kissed Bucky’s cheek. “C’mon. I want to see what you look like in your new suit.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's point of view of certain events in chapter 18.

Bucky made sure the door was closed, and he turned to Steve, feeling a little adrift now that he wasn’t holding his hand anymore.

Steve was looking back, sucking a little on his bottom lip. Oh fuck, that was a nice look on him. His hands were sure and steady as they tugged off Bucky’s tie and his jacket, and Bucky had to kiss him, even as they both worked at unbuttoning his shirt. Steve’s lips were so soft and full, like they really were made for being kissed.

Bucky had to break away though, so he could catch Steve’s jacket and hang it on a chair, making sure he could find it. Not a chance was he letting that fucking inhaler get lost again. 

He shucked off his pants and sat on the end of the bed. 

All his favorite fantasies started playing out in front of him. Steve was taking off the last of his clothes, looking back at Bucky, wanting Bucky. Eyes the color of the summer sky. Plush perfect lips. Sharp collarbones. Long sleek legs.

Bucky reached for him, pulled him close. Smiled up at him, so fucking glad to finally be here. 

“I love you, Bucky,” Steve said, making it all even better.

“Love you so much.” Bucky pressed a line of kisses all the way down Steve’s chest, taking lots of little glances down to Steve’s boxers, to the oh so enticing bulge that was straining against the front of them. He’d have dropped to his knees right then, but he’d promised Steve a bed and he intended to deliver.

He stood up, bumping their chests together, tangling up their legs, getting as much contact as he could. Steve pulled him in for a kiss, sweet and gentle, their tongues barely brushing, giving and taking.

Bed. He nudged Steve around and into the bed, because he needed this to really happen, before they could be interrupted by a goddamn zombie apocalypse or something. Steve clearly agreed, yanking Bucky’s elbow so he fell on top of him.

This was Bucky’s chance, to show Steve all those things he’d never found the words to say. How important he was, how precious. How much Bucky wanted to take care of him, not because Steve needed it, but because he fucking deserved it.

He kissed his way along Steve’s porcelain skin, relishing every hitch of breath, every shift of muscle against his lips. He ignored the temptation of pert pink nipples. They’d have time to really play at home, but right now Bucky had places to go.

Like down to the curve of Steve’s belly.

Soft was maybe not a word Steve would appreciate, and it wasn’t exactly right anyway. Delicate was worse. Steve’s skin was ... pristine. Luxurious. It was _silken._ That was just the right word, and Bucky would have told him, but his mouth was busy making Steve arch up and groan, trailing soft little bites along his stomach.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Bucky whispered. He braced his hands on Steve’s hips, his thumbs pressing lightly against the bones there as he dragged his nose up the line of Steve’s cock.

Steve tried to arch up again, giving an annoyed little pout when he realized he couldn’t. It was just like Steve to not want to be restrained, and Bucky somehow managed to fall a little bit more in love with him.

He hooked his fingertips under the band of Steve’s boxers and paused there, waiting for the sharp nod of permission that Steve gave him. Once he got that, he swept the pants off, not caring at all where they landed, caring only that he’d finally gotten Steve naked. He pressed a kiss against the inside of Steve’s thigh, and those glorious legs fell open for him.

Gingery curls, _silken_ skin, Bucky was done waiting. He took Steve’s cock in his hand and sucked the tip of it into his mouth.

How could salt and sweat taste so good? How could everything about Steve be so perfect? His cock was fucking _elegant,_ which shouldn’t even be possible, but somehow it was, slender enough that it wouldn’t make Bucky’s jaw ache too much, long enough to really need that extra hand in place as he sank down lower and slowly lifted up again. 

Steve’s hand landed on his shoulder, and for a moment Bucky thought he wanted him to stop, since he knew he wasn’t particularly good at this. But Steve had his eyes shut and his head tilted back, reaching out for Bucky as if maybe he was lonely up there. 

He took Steve’s hand and gently threaded their fingers together. Brushed his thumb over his wrist, caressing the sensitive skin as he took more of Steve into his mouth.

Steve moaned and twitched his hips, stopping just short of making Bucky choke. Jesus christ that was hot, and on the next stroke Bucky bobbed his head down even farther, grinding against the mattress. He kept the same slow pace, making long pulls and trying to circle the head with his tongue, trying to make it as good for Steve as he could, even though --

“Wait,” Steve gasped.

Shit, he should have known better. 

Bucky scrambled backwards, giving Steve all the space he could. “Sorry. Sorry, I --”

“It’s good, you’re so good,” Steve moaned, with enough enthusiasm that Bucky started to believe him. “Oh so good, I just -- Together. We said, important stuff, it’s important, we should, together.”

“You mean like --” Bucky cupped his hands around each other, and his cock gave a happy jump from just the thought of being in Steve’s mouth, but it seemed like the potential for disaster was awfully high. 

“No, just -- At the same time. Here. C’mere.” 

He reached out for Bucky’s shoulder, pulled him down beside him. Bucky sensed more than felt the faint pressure of Steve’s fingertips along the front of his boxers, but the sensation was still damned exciting.

“Want you with me,” Steve said, his voice rough and low. “At the same time.”

“At the same -- Simultaneous?”

“Yes!” 

“You want simultaneous orgasms?” 

“Yes,” Steve said, still raising the bar on perfection. “Isn’t ... Can we do that?”

“We can sure as hell try, jesus.” It was a wonder Bucky didn’t hurt himself, yanking his boxers off so fast.

Steve’s gaze trailed down and he licked his lips. Oh, this needed to happen right fucking now. 

“Okay. Scale of one to ten, how close are you?” Bucky asked. 

“Uh, seven.”

The whole blowjob thing must not have gone as well as Steve claimed, if it was just as good for Bucky as it was for him, but that was a discussion for later. Right now, Bucky slipped his hand down Steve’s side and found that lovely cock again.

“Oh, god, nine?” Steve said, groaning and pushing hard into Bucky’s hand. He made a gorgeous keening sound as Bucky pulled away, and Bucky couldn’t resist kissing him.

“I’m gonna need a second to catch up.”

“Yes, Bucky, please hurry, I want -- Can I touch you?”

Choking back a moan, Bucky managed to say, “Yeah. God, yeah.”

Fuck, oh fuck, Steve had the most amazing hands, and he knew exactly how to use them, long smooth strokes, a slight turn of his wrist each time. Fucking amazing.

“You’re so beautiful, Buck,” Steve whispered, and if he kept saying things like that, it wasn’t going to take long at all for Bucky to catch up. “Want you so much. Want to make it so good for you. Want --”

Want what? Why had he stopped talking? 

Bucky forced his eyes open. 

Steve was biting his lip, hard, turning it dark pink, like the blush on his cheeks. Oh hell no, he didn’t need to be embarrassed.

“It’s -- you can talk.” Bucky knew it wasn’t the best phrasing, but Steve’s hand really was goddamn amazing, and he lost his breath for a second. He desperately wanted to hear Steve say more though, so as soon as he could, Bucky tried again. “Love your voice. Steve -- Oh fuck, you’re hot. Love how you talk.”

“Oh.” Steve managed to look shy and smug at the same time, giving a sweet smile with a gorgeous quirk to it.

And then he started to talk.

“Love you, Bucky. Jesus, you’re so hard. Just for me.” 

_Damn right, just for you._ The words alone were like a lightning storm, but then there was the rhythm, the cadence.

“Always wanted to get my hands on you. Make you feel good, make you come, make you mine.” 

_Yours, yes yours._ The way Steve’s hand moved, with a pull and a twist, had Bucky soaring right to the edge. 

“Wanted to touch you and taste you and be with you.”

Oh god, they were supposed to finish together, and --

“So perfect for me, baby, think about you all the time, want to --”

Steve gave a startled groan, because Bucky had finally slipped his hand down to Steve’s beautiful cock and stroked up the length of it. He should have started sooner, he was already far too close to coming, but he was determined to give Steve everything he wanted.

“Oh fuck that’s so good, Bucky you’re so good.”

Bucky tried to keep himself in check by remembering the digits of pi, but he also tried to copy the way Steve twisted his wrist on the upstroke.

“Everything I want.”

3.141592 -- and Bucky swept his thumb over the head, making Steve’s voice catch.

“So perfect. Love you forever.”

Oh god, Steve did the same trick with his thumb. 

“Best thing in the world.”

Pi times 2. 6.182 -- Oh, it was a good trick.

“Hands are a goddamn miracle.”

No, no, 6.283 ... Ohhh jesus, it was a really good trick. 

“Love you, love you, god I love you.”

Steve’s hand was moving faster and harder, and Bucky was keeping pace, ready to fly apart the second Steve gave the word, and hopefully not sooner. 

Except Steve wasn’t talking at all.

Bucky looked, and -- Fuck, Steve’s eyes were closed and he was biting his lip and he was so damned beautiful, Bucky wasn’t sure he could wait anymore.

 _“Steve,”_ he said. But Steve just bit his lip even harder, and he threw his head back with a muffled moan, and --

“Please, please, Steve, now, please --”

“Oh.” Steve fucked harder into Bucky’s hand, and Bucky really couldn’t wait anymore, and Steve said, “Oh, yes, ohh --”

Bucky came harder than he ever had in his life, to the sound of their moans blending together.

He’d never seen that look on Steve’s face before, blissed out and satisfied. Bucky gave another soft moan at the thought that he had put that look there.

Steve blinked and nudged their noses together. He brushed his lips against Bucky’s as he breathed, “Love you.”

Steve’s poor bottom lip had been bitten so much tonight. Bucky sucked at it a little, smoothing it with his tongue, and murmured, “Always yours. Love you.”

“Always,” Steve echoed back, with another soft kiss. 

Bucky wondered vaguely if the fluttering ache in his chest was how Steve’s heart felt all the time, and he sighed into another of Steve’s kisses, and another. 

Being loved by Steve was the best damned thing in the world.


	9. Chapter 9

It seemed weird, to knock on this door. A few months ago Bucky would have just let himself in, with Steve right behind him.

Nobody was behind him now.

Mom opened the door, wearing pajamas. Bucky hadn’t thought about how early it was. Shit.

“Sorry,” he said, and even one fucking word was too much to get through, apparently, because his voice wavered.

She ignored the apology and hugged him. “Come inside. You had any coffee yet?”

He shook his head and followed her into the kitchen. He sat on the left stool, because it was his. The other one was Steve’s. 

The night Dad died, Steve had sat there and pulled Bucky into a hug and Bucky had never wanted to let him go. They’d pressed their shoulders together in front of the couch like they used to and started a movie. Bucky had felt some of the horrible weight of grief lighten, just from being at Steve’s side. Where he belonged.

Then Wade showed up with chimichangas, and Bucky had been so pissed at him for interrupting, and so ashamed of himself for it. Wade was supposed to be his boyfriend, and Steve had never wanted to be. Bucky still spent the rest of the movie watching Steve wrap his arms around himself and wipe his eyes, all alone. It wasn’t fair to either of them, and Bucky hadn’t known how to fix any of it.

“Wade and I broke up,” he said, though she’d probably figured that out by now. “It was -- He was right. To leave. I’m no good for him.”

Mom slid a mug of coffee across the counter to him and wrapped her hands around his. “I’m sorry, honey. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“I tried to be. I thought if I found somebody who wanted me ...” He looked down at the coffee mug, blurry with tears. “I thought if I got out of Steve’s way he’d find somebody and it fucking worked and I hate it.” 

Her eyes didn’t widen or anything. She went still for a second and nodded for him to go on, not surprised at all.

“Steve doesn’t -- He’s not --” Fuck, he couldn’t say it. He dropped his head down onto the counter and tried not to sob.

She patted his shoulder. “Maybe you should talk to him about it.”

“He doesn't want me. He wants _Peggy._ They’ve only gone out a few times and he talks about her like she’s -- I’m not going to fuck that up. I’m not.” Bucky wiped his eyes and lifted his head.

“But you kinda want to?” she asked gently.

Bucky's face twisted up without his permission. “I can’t be happy for him. I just -- God I wish I could make him fall in love with me, instead. Why can’t he fall in love with me?”

He did sob, then, burying his face in his hands.

Mom came to his side of the counter and put her arms around his shoulders. 

Bucky cried for -- Well, for too long, however long it was before he finally shuddered to a stop.

After he wiped his face and took a gulp of his lukewarm coffee, Mom sat on Steve’s stool and said, “Bucky, you can’t do this forever.”

He gave a hollow laugh. “I won’t have to. She’s graduating this year, he’ll probably go off with her, wherever she’s going. Fuck, I’ve never even met her, and she’s gonna --”

Bucky cut himself off. None of this was Peggy’s fault. Maybe it would have been easier, if he could hate her. But Steve had incredibly high standards, and Peggy met them, whatever the hell they were. Even Natasha was friends with her, and Natasha didn’t trust anyone.

Mom put her hand on his arm, the way she did when she wanted him to actually listen. “You’re important to him, too.”

“We’re practically brothers, right?” 

The words were so fucking bitter on his tongue that he wanted to sob again, but he choked it down.

“Bucky --”

He shook his head. “I’m his best friend. I can’t take that away from him. I _won’t.”_

She was going to say something else, he knew it. He talked over her. “If he changes his mind, I’ll be there. I’ll always -- Just, I’ll be there, and I won’t fuck things up for him. I promise.” He stood up abruptly and went to the refrigerator, talking on the way. “I’ll make us some omlets, okay? You have any cheese or anything to go in them?”

She scrubbed her hand over her face, looking unspeakably sad. “Yeah. There’s cheese in the drawer.”

He kept his promise for two weeks.

Then he caught the flu, and he fucked up everything.


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky watched Steve square his shoulders.  Steve did that whenever he was being brave, which meant he did it a lot, and it always made Bucky want to kiss him. Of course, Bucky wanted to kiss Steve whenever he so much as blinked, but this was different. This was fundamentally _Steve,_ and when he took Bucky’s hand and led the way to the couch, Bucky followed along, suddenly feeling like his heart was too fast and too big, just from being back in their own apartment.

It didn’t make sense to be nervous, they were _married,_ they were _together._ Forever. He didn’t have doubts or questions about it.

When Steve gestured vaguely at the couch, Bucky sat down, letting go of Steve’s hand in the process. Steve gave him a measured look, and just before Bucky reached out for him, Steve pulled his shirt off. Instead of the way he usually did it, deliberate and maddeningly sexy, this time he went quick and ... still maddeningly sexy, yeah. That was as much as Bucky could process before Steve straddled his lap and kissed him.

Bucky fell back against the cushions, sliding his hands over Steve’s bare skin, giving in to every demand of that beautiful, kissable mouth.

Steve broke away with a little gasp, which Bucky was learning not to worry about, since he ended most kisses that way. It was actually really adorable, and Bucky wondered what Steve would say if he told him so, but now was probably not the time to find out.

“I always wanted to do that,” Steve said, leaning their foreheads together.

“To take your shirt off and kiss me senseless?”

Steve sat back on Bucky’s knees and smiled. “To kiss you _here._ On our couch. I’d try not to think about it, but, god, I wanted to. You have the best lips. And the shirt was just ... ‘Cause of what you said before.”

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” Bucky slid his hands up, first across the delicate swell of Steve’s stomach, then along the curves of his ribs, and finally, finally he found the right time to give in to temptation and he rubbed his thumbs in firm circles over taut perfect nipples. Steve took a sharp breath, but that wasn’t enough, not when he had seemed even a little bit shy, so Bucky leaned in to lick and suck on one while still thumbing over the other, until Steve made a soft, delicious ‘oh’ sound.

“As long as we’re doing stuff we always wanted to do,” Bucky said, breathing the words over skin still wet from his tongue.

And then Steve’s hands were in his hair, tugging his head back, and Bucky moaned quietly and kissed Steve for all he was worth.

Steve pulled away again, with that same sweet little gasp, and said, “I used to think I’d never get to have this. I used to --”

Bucky interrupted him with another kiss. There were plenty of things that he used to think, too. Most of them weren’t so great. But if Steve needed to talk about them, then that’s what Bucky needed to give him. He had taken a fucking vow and everything, so he broke away from the kiss.

“C’mere.” He pushed at Steve’s hips and guided him around to sit in what was usually Bucky’s spot, pulling him close, the knobs of Steve’s spine fitting just so against Bucky’s chest. Bucky pointed over at their dvd shelves. “Sometimes, when we’d watch tv, I would look at those and -- I knew that The Muppet Movie would be yours, and Toy Story would probably be mine, but we bought a lot of them together, and almost all of them could either be yours or mine and ... And now we never have to decide. We never have to split up our books or figure out who gets the couch. I won’t ever have to pretend I’m okay while I watch you leave me.”

Steve turned around, a familiar glint of determination in his eyes. “I’ll never leave you.”

“I know.” Bucky took Steve’s hand and pressed a kiss against the cool metal of his wedding ring. “I know, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever known.”

Steve traced his fingertips over Bucky’s cheek. “I guess I just wanted to prove to myself that we’re not going back to the way things used to be.”

“Remember our first night here?” Bucky asked, and Steve nodded curiously, like he wondered where Bucky was going with this. Bucky kind of wondered that, too, but he figured talking was better than not talking. “I missed you, and I couldn’t sleep. Then all of the sudden, there you were. Your hair was like gold, and the moonlight made you glow.”

Bucky ran his fingers through Steve’s hair, just to have a second to look at Steve and to try to find some more words. “You sat with me all night long. I was so glad you were here. So glad we were still best friends.”

“That never changed, and it never will.”

“I love you,” Bucky whispered. “That’ll never change, either.”

“I know.” Steve grinned, so fucking beautiful, and whispered, “I love you.”

Bucky lost himself in summer-sky blue, holding Steve in his arms, breathing the same air.

He had a lot of practice at resisting the urge to touch and kiss Steve, which was maybe why he couldn’t bring himself to resist for long, now that he didn’t have to anymore. He stroked his fingers along the edge of Steve’s hair, then down his neck. Brushed over his spine, down and back up.

Steve snuggled tight against Bucky’s chest and sighed, “You’re so _warm.”_

Trying not to dislodge Steve, Bucky stretched over and grabbed the blanket off the arm of the couch so he could wrap it around Steve’s shoulders.

Steve leaned back and looked at him. His expression went from exasperated to amused, before he made his eyes all wide and innocent. God, Bucky could spend all day just watching that face, and there was no question at all that he’d play along with whatever ridiculous thing Steve had in mind.

“You sure about the blanket?” Steve said, batting his eyelashes. “Don’t want you to overheat.”

He gave a pointed look down at Bucky’s shirt.

Bucky grinned. “You think I’m hot, Stevie?”

“I really do. And you promised to let me take care of you,” he said, peering sternly over his glasses.

“Oh, well if you’re gonna do your sexy librarian thing ...”

“My what?” Steve said.

Bucky reached out and nudged Steve’s glasses down his nose. “Sexy librarian.”

Steve spent a few seconds just blinking, and Bucky wished --

“Buck, if you don’t hurry up you’re gonna get a late fee.” Steve peered over his glasses again, this time with a raised eyebrow and a smug little quirk to his lips.

Bucky reached back and yanked his shirt off so fast he scraped his nose. Hoping to make Steve laugh, he rubbed at it and said, “Ow.”

Steve did laugh, and pushed Bucky over sideways so they ended up sprawled across the couch. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and snuggled in while Steve pulled the blanket up over both of them.

Steve wriggled even closer and said, “I missed having blankets.”

“And everything smells right,” Bucky said, burying his nose against Steve’s shoulder.

“We can have regular food.”

“Yes! Whenever we want it.”

“You know what else?” Steve said.

Bucky fucking loved when Steve was unnecessarily dramatic, so he gasped and said, “What?”

Steve burst out singing, “Since we’ve been together, loving you forever is what I ne-e-e-e-ed.”

“Our song!” Bucky said. “I can’t believe they got tired of our song, it’s _perfect!”_

“I’m telling Sam you said that.”

Bucky tried to sound mournful as he said, “He already knows.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve said. “How’d that happen?”

“You were out in the limo, and I was ... trying not to freak out ‘cause I wasn’t with you.” Steve laced their fingers together and nodded his understanding, and Bucky went on. “So I told Sam that since the song came out in ‘72, it doesn’t count as a classic. But he knows all my weaknesses, so he just smiled and said, ‘It will be by your tenth anniversary.’ And then I started thinking about being married to you forever, and I sort of sighed really embarrassingly, and he laughed at me.”

Since Steve turned to look, Bucky stuck his lip out and pouted.

“Forever,” Steve whispered. The corner of his mouth twitched up and he added, “Like ducks.”

“Like ducks! Exactly.” Bucky ran his hand up Steve’s back and said, “You are the sexiest fucking duck, Stevie. I just ... Wanna ruffle your feathers.”

“Ugh, Bucky no! That’s _terrible!”_ Steve laughed and shoved Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky laughed too, until he got caught up in looking at Steve.

“What?” Steve asked softly.

“I love your laugh.” Bucky didn’t try to fight the emotion that welled up in his voice. “I love making you happy and holding you just like this. I love knowing that you love me.”

Steve brushed his fingers through Bucky’s hair, gathering his thoughts. After a moment he said, “Even in the worst times of my life, you were always there, making things better. And then the best parts -- Being your husband. Knowing that you love me. It’s better than anything I ever imagined.” He propped his chin on Bucky’s chest, smiling gorgeously. “You wanna watch tv?”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “That is so normal, it’s awesome. Do we still have the Ben Franklin one?”

“Yeah.”

Steve found the remote and turned everything on. About twenty minutes in, Bucky couldn’t resist anymore. He still had his arms around Steve, still had all that porcelain skin available to slide his hand across. He smoothed his palm over Steve’s chest. Traced the line of his collarbone. Slipped down to his belly.

When Steve sighed contentedly, Bucky murmured, “Did I tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Steve said.

“That I found the right word. _Silken._ ‘Cause silk’s strong and precious, just like you. And you are so fucking good to touch, Steve.”

Steve rolled right off the couch and onto his feet. “Bed. We should go. Now.”

“You want to skip brushing our teeth?” When Steve frowned, Bucky added, “Plus we should deal with the luggage.”

“Dammit. I’ll brush my teeth, but the rest can wait ‘til morning.”

Bucky laughed as Steve raced to the bathroom. The luggage really was a problem, so he hauled it to a corner of his room before he got around to brushing his teeth.

He didn’t laugh when he found Steve sprawled out in bed, wearing nothing but a bright smile.

“I’ve had actual dreams that started like this,” Bucky said once he got his voice back.

“About me in your bed?” He ran his fingers down from his neck to his hip, gloriously confident, mind-blowingly sexy.

Bucky stumbled over to him, traced the same path with his own fingers. “It’s _our_ bed.”

“Not just yet.” Steve tugged at Bucky’s pants. “Take these off and we’ll _make_ it our bed.”

“God yes.”

They did. With sweat and moans and that beautiful look on Steve’s face, they claimed the bed as they claimed each other, with their names on each other’s lips.

Bucky fell asleep with his nose against Steve’s hair, and his arm around Steve’s waist.

They were home.


End file.
